


Processing and Maybes

by Diary



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Minor Nick Blaine/June Osborne, POV Nick Blaine, Post-Episode: s02e08 Women's Work, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Possibly AU. A look at Nick and Eden after Serena's belt punishment. Complete.





	Processing and Maybes

There are times Eden makes him think of mice.

She quietly creeps near his space with big eyes that bring to mind does, dogs, other animals that people consider cute, sweet, and largely harmless, and she judges him with clever eyes. She probably learned reading and some math Before, and there’s a chance she was a good student.

The thought she might have still- given how religious her family was Before, she might have latched onto someone like Serena Joy even if she was free to be a kid. Saw her on TV, read her books, hung out with similarly minded teenagers. At least, though, she would have had some freedom, some choice, in it.

She wouldn’t spend so much time trying to figure out how to make him happy.

It’d be suicide, but he’s almost tempted to get to tell her to pack a second suitcase, or not, just be ready to go to Canada, find some shelter over there, and tell some perpetually tired eyed woman,_ she’s your responsibility, now, maybe keep her away from a phone for a while, monitor her internet usage, just get her a foster family __or find a group home__, get her in school, find her some clothes that look normal but won’t send her in a panic about sinfulness, if I have to sign something to dissolve this child marriage, I promise, I’ll come back, get the papers in order_.

He always used live traps to catch and release, but whatever screwed up things this says about him, he’s been wondering recently if he was really doing any of the mice and rats he’d released outside any sort of kindness. Maybe, it would have been better, safer for the world, kinder for the rodents, if he’d used snap-traps or fast-acting poison.

June would tell him to be nicer, to be patient, with that look that says, _Jesus Christ, my husband was better with mine and his daughter than you’ll ever be with ours_.

June has much more limited exposure to Eden. Eden once spent thirty minutes rubbing June’s feet, and she asked him once, innocent in a way that made guilt twist his stomach, what kind of flowers he thought June might like best for her room. However, she doesn’t hover around June near as much, and she seems to take June’s flashes of impatience as a good sign; her own mother was prone to throwing things at her father when she was pregnant with her little sister, and he’s still disturbed at the fact she views this as unconcerning behaviour.

“Nick?”

It always feels weird when she says his name. In another time, another place, she’d probably call him _Mister Blaine_, and it’s not that he’d prefer this, just that it would probably sound more natural than the way she says his name.

Standing near him in her white nightgown (he sometimes wonders if she used to wear pyjamas, if she used to wear nightgowns with cutesy pictures and sayings that he’d see in stores Before, if she slept in t-shirts or a bra, if she slept shirtless the way an ex-girlfriend did, secure in the knowledge her father wouldn’t come into her room without knocking and that she had the right to sleep however was most comfortable, not in the way men older than him and her father combined have decided is most modest), she twists her hands around a hairbrush she's holding, and he notices her hair is still in it’s bun.

Trying to keep the sigh in, he decides, if she asks him to brush her hair, he will. No doubt, she’d be asking in another attempt to create intimacy between them, but it’d be such an easy thing to do. Maybe she misses her mom and sister.

If June were free, if she had her oldest daughter, she’d be with Luke. Assuming he was alive and free, too, she’d let him be part of their child’s life, but learning how to do Hannah’s hair, holding her hand as they walked down some street, learning what would make her smile and laugh, such thoughts are not only unrealistic but pointless.

“Hm?”

The way her eyes flicker down makes him fight back a wince.

It hasn’t been a month since the last time, and having once been a horny teenager, he could happily be indifferent to the fact she might genuinely _want_, if not for the fact there’s an expectation of him reciprocating.

“I’m sorry about moving your stuff.”

“It’s fine. It’s over.” The memory of her cowering- she probably can read, though.

And he couldn’t blame her if she did decide to report her 25-year-old husband who refuses to be anything she was taught he should be, but June, all those other women, he owes them a debt of protection.

“I helped Mrs Waterford draw an oatmeal bath.”

Confused by the sudden shift, he asks, “For Offred?”

“No, for her. It’s kind of Commander Waterford to- He’s resolute when necessary in doing his duty and gracious in his mercy afterwards. If you’ll help me, I’ll be a good wife like she is.”

He manages to keep any sounds in and not ask her if she’s insane. She sees Serena Joy much differently, he reminds himself. She’s never seen, never fully grasped, the desperate, bitter rapist who happily, sadistically commits numerous human rights violations on an almost daily basis.

Never mind the supposed godly, resolute, graciously merciful Fred Waterford that she encouragingly compares him to.

Just tell her she’s a good wife, goes through his head. Offer to brush her hair. Ask if she wants to take an oatmeal bath, too.

It wouldn’t do any harm to try to be kinder, he knows.

He just-

“My father didn’t spoil me, but I never gave him reason to apply the rod. I don’t know if I should-”

Something cold goes through him. “Did the commander do something to hurt Mrs Waterford?” _June_, almost tumbles out. “Offred? With the baby-”

Shaking her head, she kneels, and setting the brush aside, she takes his hands. “Her punishment was to watch. He wouldn’t do anything to risk his son or daughter. But it’s nice. That you’re so concerned, I mean. I know she’s your friend.”

“She’s a handmaid. If anything happens to her, to the Waterford’s baby, we might all be judged harshly by the courts.”

“As it should be.”

“As it should be,” he echoes.

“Mrs Waterford only wanted to help the Putnam’s baby, but she- she did break the rules. Commander Waterford made it right. He punished her flesh so that her soul would stay pure when it’s her time to be taken.”

She was looking at his _belt_, hits him, and he has to pull his hands away. She bows her head, and she looks even smaller, and she expected him to-

Waterford beat his wife, shouldn’t be a calming thought, but it’s easier to process.

“I would never do that,” comes out, and there’s desperation rising in him.

He has to be calmer.

There’s nowhere nearby but his lap to sit, and willing himself to be gentle, he grabs the hairbrush before pulling her over to the bed. Placing it out of easy reach for both of them, he says, “Sit down.”

They do, and he tells himself not to jerk away when she retakes his hand.

“Eden, I will never do anything like that to you. I promise. Earlier-” He tries to think of the right words. “I overreacted. I was- worried. Some of the luggage isn’t strictly mine. It’s been entrusted to me by those above. I know you’d never do anything to get me, get us, in trouble, but not everyone is you. I’m not used to having a wife. It’ll take time for me to, uh, fully realise that the instincts I have when it comes to other people, they have to be different with you.”

She looks up with shining eyes, but he sees, there’s also happiness. Relief, maybe.

He’s said something she can understand, something that helps her process.

Wrapping her other hand around his, she rests her head against him, and he knows he’s too tense, but he can’t get his body to obey to relax.

“It’s okay. Marriage isn’t always easy. God sends challenges to all, even his most faithful. My father says, sometimes, especially to them. We can learn together. And when we have a son or daughter, we can make sure they’re more ready than we were.”

If she were June or even Rita, he’d kiss her forehead.

“Why don’t you take your hair down?” He hands her the brush. “This is only for your hair, and my belts are just clothes. They’ll never be anything else, not for you, and especially not for any children. Commander Waterford might have- done what he thought was right, but I’m not a man who’d hit a woman or child. There are better ways.”

Smiling her bright, shy smile, she nods. “God truly blessed me when He gave me you. I hope I’ll prove to be as much of a blessing to you.”

You are, would be the kind thing to say, words so simple.

It’s not her fault he made a horrible decision when he was barely twenty, one that, even then, he should have known better. It’s not her fault people like the Waterfords exist. It’s not her fault he’s done far worse than delivering a spanking by having sex with a fifteen-year-old girl, that he took the virginity she should have had a real choice in giving away. Maybe, she would have gotten in over her head and let some boyfriend sweet talk her in the backseat of a car, or maybe, she would have waited until she was an adult, found a Christian man, waited until they were married.

Knowing this and feeling it are two different things, and what he wants most is to not have to deal with this child bride hoping for a baby almost every day of his life.

She gets her hair brushed, and when they lay down, she presses against him. “May your dreams be blessed.”

Hoping his tone isn’t as weary as he feels, he replies, “Under His eye.”

When he feels her fall fully into sleep, he carefully slips out of bed.

In the morning, she’ll wake before he does, she’ll make breakfast, and he’ll- he should tell her thank you, say honestly that she’s a great cook.

Once he makes sure June is okay, he’ll try.


End file.
